July 27, 2007

Jul 27, 2007

So Blythe P. Clayton lives in Toluca Lake in the Valley and works at the law firm Bendall, Myers, Reeves, and Jacobson in Santa Monica. What was she doing going to the gym so far from home? She listed her age as 28, but I think she may be fibbing there. Don't get me wrong — she's spicy as salsa, but I'd put her in her mid-30s. Under "fitness goals" she wrote: "Toning, and losing belly fat." From what I've seen, she doesn't need help with either.

I had both her work and cell number and her e-mail. For a minute, I thought about calling, but decided that might potentially be an awkward conversation for both of us.

Me: Oh, hey Blythe. Thanks for sex in the Pacific, then running off. Her: Never call this number again!

So I wrote her, not explaining how I go the e-mail, but saying that I'd like to see her again.

Later, I got a call from the city, telling me an officer would meet me at the apartment in the afternoon. There would be another time when I could pick up all my stuff, but this was just to get some clothes, toiletries, and porn (the motel rents out DVD players).

When I arrived at the apartment, an attractive lady officer greeted me. Her name was Officer Raynes, and she told me I had 30 minutes to collect my stuff. Jack's car was not in the driveway, as I'd purposely chosen a time I knew he wouldn't be home.

Officer Raynes was pleasant enough, but I found it strange that she accompanied me into my apartment, like I was a criminal. At least she didn't hover — just stood in my living room with her hands on her hips.

I grabbed the suitcase in my room and loaded it to the brim. As I was coming out, I realized I'd forgotten the porn. So I reached under my bed and felt around for a few tapes. Voil! I shoved them in the front flap.

"All done," I said. "We can go now."

"I'm gonna need to check the bag."

"Why?"

"Mr. Bird wanted to be sure you weren't taking anything that wasn't yours."

"That's ridiculous," I said, feeling myself start to sweat. I was like the guy in Midnight Express who gets busted with drugs by Turkish airport security. Literally, beads of sweat formed on my forehead and I couldn't catch my breath.

"You all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine."

I placed the bag down and told her she was welcome to look through it, "although I find the request insulting."

She put on rubber gloves and searched it. I couldn't even watch, pretending to suddenly be interested in a week-old newspaper on my kitchen table. In the corner of my eye, I saw her open the front pocket, home to Sorority Sweethearts #46. She put her hand inside, and, just as I was going to explain it was for research, Donatela appeared.

"Hello, Zach."

Startled, Officer Haynes turned quickly, her hand on the pistol.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"I'm an old friend of Mr. Randle. Can I have a word with him, please?"

Officer Haynes wasn't down for any words. "Mr. Randle is retrieving his items now. He only has five minutes left."

"Can we be alone for a few of those minutes?"

"No, ma'am."

Donatela forged ahead. "It's good to see you," she said.

I didn't answer.

"I'm sorry it's all turned out like this."

"No, you aren't!"

"Don't get an attitude with me. None of this had to happen, but you were stupid enough to beat up my boyfriend."

At that point, Officer Haynes put down the DVD and said, "I'll be outside in the car." She looked at her watch, then me. "Four minutes and counting."

Once she left, we continued. I turned to Donatela and dug in. "You're doing this intentionally. The calls to the station, the earth-shattering screams at night, the 'relationship' with Jack. It's all to get even with me."

She sat down and shook her head. "This could have been a lot worse," she said. "I think you should thank me."

"For what?!"

"For bailing you out of jail, Zach. And for talking Jack out of pressing charges. That was not an easy thing to do. He hates your guts. She picked the porn tape off the end table. "This your new girlfriend?"

I took a breath. "Thank you for doing that. But it doesn't make what you're doing right."

"What am I doing, exactly? Having fun? You could have had me. I love you. But you chose not to be a man and to run as soon as you caught a whiff of commitment. Am I really that terrible?"

Man, had she spun this around. I was mad at her, and now I felt sad for her.

"Of course you're not."

"You know what I think? You're jealous. You can't stand the thought of me with another man because you have strong feelings for me."

Before I could answer, my phone rang. Donatela waited to see what I'd do. After the third ring, I said, "One second" and reached into my pocket to retrieve it. It was an e-mail. From Blythe.

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